That Damn Jacket
by magicathThedemigod
Summary: "Maka and Soul have always been very close. It made Soul's heart beat faster every time she asked him to do her pigtails or when she used him as a pillow. But when she came into the living room wearing his black and yellow jacket, dirty blonde hair down and slightly damp, he just about had it." Oh gods the feels, friends. Rated T for swearing and Maka's neck. Maybe more later?
1. Soul

**Soul's POV**

Maka and Soul have always been very close. It made Soul's heart beat faster every time she asked him to do her pigtails or when she used him as a pillow. But when she came into the living room wearing his black and yellow jacket, dirty blonde hair down and slightly damp, he just about had it. "Why're you wearing that?"

She blushed ever so slightly and protested," It's comfy! I was cold and it was just _there_ \- in a heap on the floor, if I might add- so I picked it up."

Soul thought about saying something insulting, but instead he sighed and turned back to the TV. "Don't get it dirty. That wouldn't be cool."

He could feel her smile of victory without turning around. He didn't mention that it was his favorite, it looked surprisingly good on her, or the fact that he wanted to pick her up and just _snuggle_. But that wouldn't be cool, so he shut his mouth and tried not to do anything lame.

But no, the universe was just not having it. Maka came over with a granola bar and _sat next to him_ and _leaned on his shoulder_. Was she trying to make him slip? Did she know his thoughts? But all of his 'cool training' told him to be casual.

He tried, but he couldn't focus on the TV anymore. A Maka-with-his-jacket had more presence that Black Star- and he yelled all the time. So he shifted ever so slightly enough so he couldn't see the jacket on her or smell her shampoo (something tropical, maybe pomegranate).

But she moved right along with him, not even looking up. Almost like she didn't know she was doing it. _This is not a cool situation._

And yet Soul's heart was going a mile a minute, his blood was roaring in his ears, and he could feel the start of what felt like sweat on his palms. Maybe he was sick. Maybe he was hungry.

"Soul?" Maka asked simply, probably noticing that he was about to have a heart attack. Or worse, do something lame. "Are you okay?"

He secretly loved it when she said his name like that. Concerned, confused, and even somewhat amused. He swallowed- his mouth suddenly went dry- and tried to tell her that no, he was not fine. So -out of respect for his nerves- could she please take off his jacket and douse him with ice water? But he said-even though he was only in a t-shirt and sweatpants, "Fine, just hot."

"Are you sure?" and then she was up in his face, laying a hand across his forehead.

From here Soul could see the crinkle between her brows, the tiny blush on her cheeks, the flecks of grey in her green eyes- everything. Not to mention she was leaning over him, making contact with his entire being. And then there was that damn jacket of his.

He felt like his soul was going to explode out of his body.

"I think you have a fever," she announced to him and suddenly she was gone, across the room.

Soul managed to work his lungs. "I feel fine, Maka."

His voice came out more gravelly than expected, and he saw Maka fumble the Advil. "W-well you're obviously _not_ fine, so take these anyway."

She came back over and handed him a glass of water and two of the fever reducing pills. Soul didn't think he had a fever, so he chucked the pills elsewhere while her back was turned and chugged the water. "There, I took the pills. I'm fine."

Maka huffed and threw herself back onto the couch. It seemed there was no respite for Soul. She decided that a safe option would be to rest her head on his shoulder. Her soft hair ran down his shoulder, brushed his neck, and that heady shampoo was the only thing his brain could focus on.

But he couldn't move without seeming suspicious. He couldn't say anything without hurting her feelings, he was so tense. Soul briefly considered screaming at the sky. His better judgement decided against it. So he stayed so still she must of thought he'd turned to stone.

 _Dammit woman_ , he thought. _Why did you have to be cold? Why do you smell so good? Why is your hair so soft? Why are you so adorable? Why does your skirt have to be that short? What did you do to make me like this?!_

The TV played some brutal news stories for a Sunday morning, but Soul couldn't find it in himself to care.

Maka shifted closer, and Soul's airway closed. He really couldn't breathe. She was practically _laying on him_ (though in actuality she wasn't that close). It was definitely pomegranates he was smelling. Was he high? He felt like he was in the clouds, and the only coherent thought came back when he probed his brain was that Maka was very nice.

Not personality-wise. She had nice hair, nice legs, nice smelling shampoo, nice eyes, and Soul was suffering from an overload of all these things. And that God forsaken _jacket!_

 _This is not cool_ , he told himself. _You are not being cool right now. This is a blow to your pride, your family, your reputation, your miester-_

 _It's her fault! If she wasn't so freaking adorable, I wouldn't be high right now. Yes, that's right. Her fault._

Soul couldn't stay mad at her though, even if causing his lameness was the ultimate crime (behind harming his meister or wearing socks and sandals).

This entire time, she didn't seem to notice her weapon's internal struggle, but Soul just wanted to be sure. He glanced down at her face and couldn't look away. She was absentmindedly watching the TV and eating her granola bar. He could stare however long he wanted. He watched the way her eyelashes would curl up just slightly, how messy her bangs were because she hadn't brushed them, the faint flush on her cheeks, the way she cradled a book she had gotten from who-know's-where. And then she giggled at the TV, and suddenly he couldn't take it anymore.

Ignoring the granola wrapper and deadly book, Soul scooped Maka up and into his lap, shoving his face into the crook of her neck. She squeaked and weakly tried to withdraw, but he held an iron grip on her. He waited for the explosion of pain in his skull, but nothing came. So he nuzzled deeper and felt Maka melt and shiver in his strong arms.

"W-what are you-?" she stammered, but she gripped the front of his shirt where her arms were trapped. "Soul?"

"Dammit Maka," he growled. "Did you have to put it on?"

He tugged at her- _his_ \- jacket for emphasis.

"I-I was just cold," she tried to defend herself.

"It's been driving me crazy for the past 15 minutes," he growled back and pulled her closer.

She gasped, and Soul decided that he liked that sound. "I-I s-s-sorry…"

He chuckled darkly. "It was totally uncool."

She shuddered in response and expectation. Soul tugged her hair and breathed in deeply, trying to ground himself. He didn't find purchase, only more of the urge to cuddle. It was _lame_ and _he didn't care_.

"S-Soul," she stated. "Y-You're being really i-i-intense, Soul."

Soul guessed he was, so he tried to calm down a little. He didn't try anything else, just turned off the TV and held her.

After three minutes of doing nothing, Maka calmed down enough that she wasn't shivering or squeaking. Or stuttering, which made Soul incredibly happy to know that he could do that to her.

"Don't switch your shampoo," Soul mumbled.

* * *

 _ ***screams forever* Guys I actually did this in one sitting. One hour, and this brainchild was on digital paper. I am proud.**_

 _ **Some SoMa that may or may not test the boundaries of the T rating.**_

 _ ***feels***_

 ** _~"A sound soul resides in a sound mind and a sound body."~_**


	2. Maka

**Chapter Two**

 **Maka's POV**

It had been awkward ever since the jacket incident. Maka had returned it and even avoided Soul at times, even though she kind of missed him.

But he scared her with the intensity of…whatever that was. Lust? Maybe. But she had reveled in that feeling, the look of want in his blood red eyes. She had to admit that she was attracted to him.

Oh god, what was she going to do?

She was in the kitchen, washing her hands when suddenly hands clamped down on her waist and Soul's face was buried in her neck. Maia gasped and shivered.

He was a tease, really. He just put his head there and _didn't do anything_ , just hovered his lips over her neck and breathed. And that made her crazy. She didn't understand him. She wanted him to just get it over with an kiss her.

The kitchen incident was the last straw. The next morning, Maka changed her shampoo and body wash.

Now it was just plain citrus. It wasn't strong or even particularly good. But it was enough that Soul noticed.

She came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, hair loose about her shoulders. She ran into Soul, who was coming out of his room when his eyes landed on her. She shivered in response. Soul's eyes narrowed as if he could sense her betrayal and her stalked closer.

He wound a hand into her hair and glared. "You didn't change your shampoo, did you?"

"S-so what if I-I did?" Maka responded and silently cursed herself for stuttering. Soul gave her a toothy grin, and suddenly she was afraid.

He moved closer until she was backing into the wall. And then he was looming over her, hands on either side of her head. "I thought I told you not to do that. Don't partners respect each other's wishes?"

"Yes," she said breathlessly. Her heart was ready to beat up her throat, and she could feel herself being set on fire, starting from her toes.

"But you didn't," Soul growled and moved so his snowy bangs brushes hers.

He put his face back into the crook of her neck, wrapping arms around her. Maka's toes curled.

Maka shivered as electricity arced through her body. "S-Soul?"

He grunted and Make pulled his t shirt.

"Why are you doing this?" Maka gasped as she felt teeth graze her skin. _Closer, closer Soul!_

He froze, going stiff around her. "Why indeed…"

She waited for his answer with tense shoulders and a tight grip on Soul's shirt.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" He asked with horror in his voice.

"No," she answered honestly. "But I am confused."

Soul let out a breath that sent tingles down her spine. "Making you uncomfortable wouldn't be cool. Then I guess I'm in love with you."

He said it so casually that Maka almost missed the meaning. "What?"

Soul came up to look her in the eyes, his blood red irises intense and honest. "I'm in love with you, Maka Albarn."

And then he promptly put his face back into her neck. Maka turned red, all the way to the tips of her ears. "What?! Really?!"

She jittered on the spot, trying to keep from exploding into sobs. Or laughs. Either one would fit here. "How are you so calm?"

"I'm just cool that way," he told her. Maka suspected he was hiding his face from her.

So she reached up and pulled his head away. And then she kissed him.

The kisses in her books have fireworks, music, dancing. But not this one. Her stomach twisted into knots, she was shaking, and she was sure she was going to cry, but she felt like she was on cloud 9. Somehow, her hands ended up in his hair, tugging and pulling and feeling the fine white strands.

Soul's hands were iron clad on her waist, and he kissed her back with such a passion that Maka shuddered. Should she be doing this? He was her weapon, they were partners. The repercussions were all she could think about.

And then Soul bit her lip and she gasped. She felt him smirk, and when they both finally pulled back because _God she couldn't breathe_ , he was grinning like a shark.

His forehead rested against hers and he slowly let out a breath. "Does this mean..?"

Maka was forty shades of red, but she managed,"Yeah."

And then Soul tugged her hair and pulled away. "Go back to the other shampoo."

* * *

 _ **dkjsf;wugt;kjdbrek;bgqewrg**_

 _ **Am I the only one who died? Yes? Okay then...**_

 _ **Hope you enjoyed. That's the end of this little two-shot. Since the first chapter didn't really have a confession of love (however much they almost made out), I wanted to write this.**_

 ** _-insert strangled fangirl noise here-_**

 _ **"I am your weapon partner Maka! That means I'm always prepared to die for my Meister!" -Soul Eater Evans**_


End file.
